


The Reprogramming of A Mind Palace

by JennLynn77



Series: The Mind Palace Reprogramming [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Amazing John, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Especially by John, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, I just wanted Sherlock to feel loved, Implied Parentlock, Insecure Sherlock, Johnlock Roulette, Johnlock/fluff, Loving Sex, M/M, Post S4, Rosie adores Sherlock, Top John, Vulnerable Sherlock, a little plot, then some porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 16:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennLynn77/pseuds/JennLynn77
Summary: "John, I don't understand why you let those things they say bother you. They're talking about me." Sherlock offers to break the suddenly uncomfortable silence.John twists on the seat to face him, a look of incredulity passes over his face. "You think their idiotic comments about you make me doubt myself and what we have, is that it?""Apparently I'm not the only detective in this cab. Bravo, John."





	The Reprogramming of A Mind Palace

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first foray into an explicit rating territory. I hope that fact is not painfully obvious to you while you're reading! I'm also American, so pardon any blatant American-isms or misused words. Non-beta-ed, so all mistakes are my own. If you want to alert me to anything I should correct, please do! If you like this, please click the kudos button at the bottom. If you really liked it, tell me why in the comments! Thanks for checking this out!
> 
> I have a Tumblr if you'd like to come and say hi! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/johnyouareamazingyouarefantastic

"Baker Street, please. 221B." John said to the cab driver as he slid onto the seat after Sherlock. He sat with a sigh and chanced a sideways glance at Sherlock. He had already turned slightly away from John, right temple against the window, watching as London slowly began to move outside of their little world as the cab pulled away from the kerb.

"John, I don't understand why you let those things they say bother you. They're talking about me." Sherlock offers to break the suddenly uncomfortable silence.

John twists on the seat to face him, a look of incredulity passed over his face. "You think their idiotic comments about you make me doubt myself and what we have, is that it?"

"Apparently I'm not the only detective in this cab. Bravo, John." Sherlock continued to stare out the window.

John closed his eyes and pressed them together. 'Do not engage with this behavior. It's what he does. He's trying to push me away. Don't let him.' John repeats this mantra in his head for the remainder of their journey back to their flat. _**Their home**_.

They'd received an urgent text from Lestrade over three hours ago. They'd hastily straightened the kitchen table of their interrupted dinner, and  
hoped Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind watching Rosie for a few hours. As usual, Sherlock arrived and had more of a grasp of the situation in under twenty minutes than the entirety of New Scotland Yard's finest had in over two hours. John'd hoped that with Donovan and Anderson's eliminated presence, Sherlock would be left to assist and be free of the disdain and ignorance of NSY's previous line-up. It has also become apparent that the newest lineup of NSY detectives were familiar with Sherlock's antics and were prepared accordingly. John wondered if Donovan and Anderson had conducted a class to teach the new detectives buzzwords to hurl at Sherlock. 'Psychopath' 'sociopath' and 'freak' made their expected utterances, and Sherlock seemed to let them roll down his back, seemingly unruffled by their scorn. The questioning of John's continued loyalty to "that weirdo" being more baffling than the case was what made Sherlock's left eye twitch. To the unobservant, one would think nothing of it. But John saw it, and it made his stomach twist.

So eager to exit the cab was Sherlock, he tossed the fee to the driver and made his way to the heavy black door of their flat. While he fumbled with his keys,  
John thanked the driver and wished him a good evening. He waited for Sherlock to make his way inside before following, wanting to give him a few minutes alone before they talked. As he entered the building, he saw Mrs. Hudson's flat door open.

"John, is everything all right? I heard Sherlock come in and he flew up the stairs before I could speak to him."

John's face is tight. "He's had a rough night, Mrs. Hudson. It seems that the new detectives Lestrade is forced to work with have stepped into the  
previous roles of former Mean Girls, Anderson and Donovan."

Mrs. Hudson tuts. "Oh, John. I was hoping that we were past all of that. Go upstairs and be good to him. Rosie is asleep right now, and I'd hate to wake her. We can have a sleepover and I'll bring her up to you boys in the morning."

John's face softens. She's too good for the both of them. He leans forward and places a gentle kiss to her left cheek as thanks. She turns to head back into her flat, and John turns to face the seventeen steps leading to his own. He straightens his spine in preparation for the oncoming tempest.

He pushes through the door to the flat to hear Sherlock brushing his teeth in the bathroom down the hall. Apparently, they won't be having tea and a talk in the sitting room tonight. He scraped the plates that they'd hurriedly set in the sink before they left to help Lestrade and did up the rest of their dishes. He walks over to his chair and toes off his shoes before he sits. He leans back and stretches his legs and crosses his ankles, listening to Sherlock readying himself for bed. It's barely past eleven o'clock, and the case isn't quite closed. He rarely (intentionally) sleeps during an incomplete investigation. Why are the two of them such utter shit at talking about things?

He waits until he hears the toilet flush and Sherlock's heavy steps into their bedroom to get himself up and ready for bed. Giving Sherlock a bit of space during these types of moods is usually the best for him, but something about his reaction and knee-jerk sarcasm in the cab didn't sit well with John.

He made his way down the hall and into the bathroom and went about his routine as quietly as possible, in case Sherlock was able to fall asleep. Ten minutes later, he made his way to bed, watching the slowing down of Sherlock's breathing as he approached. He gently lifted the duvet and slid in beside him. Sherlock's back was to him tonight, signaling he wasn't in the mood for anymore talking. John situated himself on his back and crossed his arms across his sternum and glared at the ceiling. An undetermined amount of time passed, when Sherlock suddenly whispered in the dark:

"I don't know why you stay here with me, John."

John clenched his eyes tightly closed and reached his right hand across the bed and placed it against Sherlock's back. He could feel a slight tensing in his back muscles. Damn it.

"You know why I'm here, Sherlock. There's literally no place I could ever picture myself being if you aren't by my side."

"Don't you ever tire of being made to feel like your decision to be with me is foolish? At what point did you decide that everyone else is wrong and you're right? Everyone can't be wrong, can they? At some point, the validity of others' claims must be taken into consideration."

"I decided the night we had our first case. I don't throw words like, 'amazing', 'brilliant', and 'fantastic' around for the sheer joy of hyperbole, Sherlock. You know I meant them then, and I mean the every time I say them to you now. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Mrs. Hudson. And Lestrade and Molly, too. Honestly, you needn't go further  
than watching the way Rosie interacts with you. She sized you up immediately, and knew from moment one that you were wonderful."

"I hardly call the actions of an infant who was undoubtedly infatuated with my hair to be a great judge of character."

"You seem to be forgetting how, as she's grown, that she calls for you when she's sick, searches for you in the flat when she and I come home from shopping. When she gets a new toy, she wants to share it with you. When she learned to walk, she wobbled into your arms. Her second word was "S'lock". It is said by many that there is no greater a judge of character than a child. They can tell if someone is full of shit, and from the day she met you, on the backseat of my car, where she was technically born, on the way to the hospital that night, she's barely been able to take her eyes off of you."

He could feel the tension in Sherlock's back ease a bit after his words. He wants to pull all of Sherlock's self-loathing and self-doubt out of his body and set it on fire. Burn it all to the fucking ground.

John switches his position from his back to his right side, and slides closer to Sherlock, draping his left arm across Sherlock's belly and pulling him close. He places a gentle kiss to his left shoulder then lays his forehead at the base of Sherlock's neck, and inhales the scent of the man he loves.

"I don't know what more I can do to make you understand how much you are loved, Sherlock, before you actually believe it."

"It's hard to believe the opposite of words you've heard used to describe you for as far back as you can remember. I know the past is the past, and logically, I agree with that, but when you've grown up as the constant oddity, it's hard to shake that perception of yourself. I try every day to see myself as you see me, but instances such as this evening's interaction with NSY's latest crop seem to send me back to my past. I apologize for my overreaction and the ruining of the rest of our evening."

"There's no need for contrition, Sherlock. It is my privilege, for the rest of our lives, to show you how much you are truly loved ."

Sherlock places his left hand over John's and intertwines their fingers and brings them to his lips, placing a reverent kiss to John's palm. John pulls Sherlock even tighter against him and squeezes. He wants to make sure he knows, Sherlock has to know. He untangles their fingers and leans up on his right elbow, placing his left hand on Sherlock's shoulder, and pressing his back against the mattress. He looks down to see damp eyes.

_**Oh no.** _

"Sherlock, no. Please don't be sad."

"I'm not sad, John. Just glad you want to be here when no else does."

"You've got me forever if you're okay with that. I think you might be stuck with me. I've never met another consulting detective with rainbow eyes and ebony curls to tempt me away from you."

"The only one in the world, so I'm told."

"Don't you forget it." John winked.

John leaned down to press his lips to Sherlock's. At the touch of their lips, John felt Sherlock raise slightly from the bed to meet him. _'He needs you, John. He needs to know.'_

Emboldened by Sherlock's response, he put both arms under Sherlock's back and pulled him up a bit, intensifying their kiss. He could feel Sherlock's frame soften in his embrace, seemingly letting John take control. _'This is good for him_ ', John thought, _'I need to get him out of his head, if only for a short while._ '

He relaxed his hold and laid Sherlock back on the mattress. He lifted himself off his right side and straddled Sherlock. His head tilted a bit at the sight below him. Wide, shiny eyes looking up at him in amazement. Like he was trying to figure out why John loved him so much.

John leaned down and Sherlock closed his eyes. John tenderly mouthed away the tears clinging to Sherlock's eyelashes. He brought his hands to Sherlock's face and kissed each cheek, then ran his nose against Sherlock's.

"Sherlock? Open your eyes for me, okay?"

His eyes flickered open, and John smiled. He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and Sherlock let out a low snicker. He reached forward and grasped the nape of John's neck and kissed him hard, bringing his other hand into John's silvering hair. John reached down to the bottom of Sherlock's sleep shirt and tried to pull up. Sherlock caught on and helped John shimmy him out of it. John sat up and removed his own while Sherlock watched. Off his knees now, he slid lower to place himself between Sherlock's legs and began tugging at his pants. Sherlock lifted his hips and John pulled them off and tossed them towards the floor behind him, not removing his gaze from Sherlock's face. His eyes were closed, and his head tilted back at an angle, waiting for John to come back to claim that glorious neck. John got to his knees again and began the dragging off of his own pants. Once free of them, he inched his way up towards that neck and began nipping at Sherlock's carotid. He could feel the low moan building in Sherlock's body before he heard it. He reached down with his right hand and placed it around Sherlock's rapidly filling cock and gave him a few long, sweeping strokes. The motion triggered a Pavlovian response, Sherlock's knees immediately parted and spread to encourage John's ministrations. John reached under their pillows and found the bottle of slick they hide under them. He removed his hand from Sherlock's burgeoning erection and placed it on Sherlock's left calf and bent his leg to place it around John's hip. He flicked the cap with his teeth and spilled some of the cool, glossy liquid on his right palm and fingers.

"John, please."

"Easy, Sherlock. I want to show you, to prove to you, just how much you are loved."

Sherlock bit his lower lip as John's right index finger teased at his entrance. He threw his neck back and forced his body to relax for John. He felt John's mouth on his abdomen and raised his hips to meet it, and John's now warm, slicked finger breached him. Sherlock tightened around the intrusion a bit, so John slowly probed the warm heat, while he mouthed warm, wet kisses to Sherlock's upper thighs.

"I love you, Sherlock." he whispered against Sherlock's heating skin.

Those words seemed to relax Sherlock a bit, so John added a second finger, loosening him slowly. After a third finger was added and a misguided brush of Sherlock's prostate sent him a foot off the bed, John let out a throaty laugh and his left hand found Sherlock's right hip and gently pressed him back to the mattress.

"Okay, I get the hint. I think you're ready for me."

As John knelt between Sherlock's thighs, he looked up at him. Sherlock's breaths were shallow, and his thighs were shaking. He placed both hands on Sherlock's calves and tugged them around his waist. He poured more lubricant on his right hand and slicked up his own neglected cock, and thumbed a bit more on Sherlock's opening. He slowly pressed inside, watching Sherlock's breathing to see if he should slow down. A rumbling groan escaped Sherlock's throat as a long breath went with it.

"That's it, Sherlock. Breathe for me."

John pressed further inside and Sherlock tightened his legs around John's waist on a slow inhale. Once fully seated, John ran his hands up and down Sherlock's trembling thighs, trying to soothe him a bit before continuing. Talking to him a bit usually helped with that.

"Sherlock, I need you to do something for me." Sherlock quirked a dazed, yet puzzled glance up at John.

"I need you to understand how much you mean to me. How much this means to me. We've finally let ourselves be together, and I never want you to wonder or doubt how deeply loving you has affected me. Changed me. I consider your love an honor, and I will try, every day, to be worthy of it."

Sherlock sighed as he locked his ankles behind John's back. He lifted his right hand and placed it at the area between John's ear and shoulder and dragged him down to his lips. In between alternating soft lip bites, John began to move.

"Sherlock," he whispered against his lips. "can you save this? All of this? Can you overwrite all those horrible memories you have and replace them with this?"

 ** _A thrust of hips_**  "Can you replace sociopath with kind?" **_thrust_   **"Psychopath with caring?" **_thrust_   **"Weirdo with wonderful." **_thrust_**   "Freak with affectionate." _**thrust**   _"Addict with compassionate." _**thrust**_ " Alone with mine."

A soft cry came from Sherlock as he threw back his head. With every thrust, John grazed against Sherlock's prostate.

"John..." Sherlock was beyond words now; the only one he could say was the name of the man inside him, the man who was trying to tear down the barricades he'd been reinforcing his whole life.

"Sherlock, let go of your self-doubt. Hold on to me, okay?" Sherlock's warmth seized around John's length. His fingernails clenched the back of John's shoulders.

"Sherlock, hold on to my love for you and let the rest of it go. **_LET. GO._** "

A pleasured cry filled the room as Sherlock climaxed, his release spattering his stomach, his orgasm causing his insides to flutter and contract around John.

"Sherlock! Oh! Sherlock! Love. Almost there, love."

Sherlock tightened his impossible hold around John's hips and waist, spurring on John's now uncoordinated thrusts.

"Come on, John. Follow me. Please. Follow me everywhere."

Another blissed-filled sob consumed the room as John spilled inside Sherlock, with short, fast thrusts. The aftershocks of his orgasm taking control of his hips as he spends himself inside of Sherlock's heat.

They lie there now, Sherlock's legs locked around John's compact frame, John's arms sliding under Sherlock's back, pulling him into a tight embrace. As their breathing began to even out, Sherlock spoke first.

"I think you just control-alt-deleted my mind palace, John."

John pressed his forehead against Sherlock's chest and smiled. "That was my intention."

"As always, my conductor of light, I think you succeeded."

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you made it to the end, please leave a kudos if you liked it, or a comment if you REALLY liked it.


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